


I Would Like To Hold You

by TypingBosmer



Category: Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: Custom Female Ryder | Sara, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Feelings Realization, Flashbacks, Hunting the Archon, Poetic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-19
Updated: 2020-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:23:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23219212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TypingBosmer/pseuds/TypingBosmer
Summary: A snapshot of a conversation between Jaal and Yasmine Ryder, just after escaping the clutches of the Archon.
Relationships: Jaal Ama Darav/Female Ryder | Sara, Jaal Ama Darav/Ryder
Comments: 17
Kudos: 49





	I Would Like To Hold You

After the Tempest, in a noiseless flash of stinging blue, makes its lurch forward, leaving the kett flagship far behind, Jaal exhales loudly, as if bursting through deep, dark, lead-heavy water, and turns his eyes on Ryder.

She likes dressing, and even tinting her space suit, in saturated colours - a rich magenta, and purple, and blue. He believes that in human culture such combinations symbolize a proclamation of the love one feels towards others, though he might have to ask for clarification. Some humans seem to find Ryder’s outfits annoying, too much of a vivid splash amid the white uniforms of the Initiative. But never before has it been more soothing for him to rest his eyes on her vibrant jacket and scarf.

‘Ry…’ he clears his throat after the first syllable, and then takes another breath, another dive. Into different waters than the ones he just emerged from. Clear. Exhilarating.

He calls her by her first name. It sounds hoarse, unpracticed, when it rolls off his tongue - but he feels something stir within his heart when he says it out loud. Something rather like… the first notes of a song.

'Yasmine’.

She looks up, a pair of black eyes shimmering with shards of starlight.

Once, what seems like centuries ago, she asked him a question about Angaran biology, and he, still wary of the prying strangers from the Milky Way, shrugged it off with a deflective remark,

'I don’t know. How do your eyeballs work?’

Her face lit up, her lips parted in an enormous human smile, and she bombarded him with facts about light entering the pupil. Not knowing her enough, not caring enough to puzzle out her expression, he snapped at her,

'You used my sarcasm as an excuse to show off. Pitiful’.

And that was when the light faded, and she cast her gaze down, shielding her eyes with the protective little whiskers - lashes - that he has since found himself so mesmerized by, so many times.

'I was not showing off,’ she said quietly. 'I really do find it fascinating. Studying how our worlds work - how our bodies work - and sharing what I find’.

'My words hurt you, didn’t they?’ he asked. 'I appreciate you letting me know that, and I will take better care next time’.

And so he has.

Back in the present, in the shadow of the Salarian ark, he calls out to her, the echo of her name still tingling through him.

'I would like to hold you’.

She appears startled. He knows that now. He has learned. It’s easy to read in the upward motion of the two fuzzy arches of tiny hairs on her face - just above her eye sockets. The ones that make the human countenance so expressive; or could have made, if humans were bold enough.

But the initial surprise soon gives way to understanding, and she is the first to extend her arms in a wordless welcome. He wraps himself around her, holding her close to his chest. Soft. Warm. Alive.

Mechanically, his fingers travel to the nape of her neck, and find the mark left by the Archon’s syringe… And that is when the dark waters close in around him again, blocking out all light, dragging him to the bottom, caving in his chest with the weight of a thousand atmospheres.

And again, she understands.

'You thought he was going to Exalt me, didn’t you?’ she whispers. With her face buried in the folds of his rofjinn, and with her hands pressed into his spine. Supporting him, just as he imagines gravity giving out under his feet. Holding him steady, just as the dark waters are about to carry him away.

'Yes,’ he admits, letting words and sobs alike escape freely.

'Those moments, tethered in place, unable to help you, were like a waking nightmare. I was certain that I would witness another transformation play out before me… And then… When you were spared… SAM stopped your heart’.

She makes the smallest of whimpers; the static electricity charge that has been building up within him must have stung at her. And yet, she does not unlock her embrace, and her warmth is the only thing that keeps him from hurtling into the dark. From drowning in memories of her body on the ship’s floor.

A spot of pink and purple and dark-blue against the black and muddy green, growing blurred and then clear again with each of his blinks. Lips pressed tight, eyelashes unmoving, while her AI’s robotic voice reported yet another unsuccessful attempt to resuscitate her.

'Being an angara means always being prepared for loss. Always waiting for the kett to take away more and more of those you care about. You - you have encouraged us to believe that it does not have to be this way. And then… you almost became our next loss. My next loss’.

'I am sorry you had to see this,’ she looks up at him, her round brown face swimming in and out of focus again, and attempts a bitter sort of laugh. Her hand - small fingers, all separate, nails painted the same hues as her jacket - travels up to gently rest on the side of his face, and this simple touch drains the dark. As though his mind were a planet she was bringing back to life.

'I am definitely not a fan of having my friends watch me die. Just ask Liam and Cora’.

Hearing her refer to him as her friend - a friend on the same level as her fellow humans, who have been beside her since the very beginning of their adventures! - adds another joyful note to the song in his heart. But that is not enough. Not nearly. He is certain of it now. After nearly losing her, and holding her, he is certain.

'Yasmine, I wanted to ask - ’ he begins, new, louder notes swelling in his chest.

She tilts her head in sudden encouragement, and the song rings ever more, filling his heart to the brim… Only to be silenced by the sudden orange flash of her omni-tool.

'Oh…’ the outline of the two fuzzy arches changes to indicate concentration.

'I think Tann wants to talk to me on the vid comm. I… I hate running off like this. I want to pick this up later. Maybe when we go see your mom on Havarl?’

'I… I would like that,’ he mutters.

She rushes off upstairs - but not before waving at him, with that enormous human smile cast over her shoulder. And the song begins anew.


End file.
